


Mornings

by wigglebox



Series: Post-Season 15 Supernatural Fics / pre-finale [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Post-Canon, Scars, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox/pseuds/wigglebox
Summary: Naked you are simple as one of your hands;Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.You've moon-lines, apple pathwaysNaked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.- Morning (Love Sonnet XXVII) by Pablo Neruda
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Post-Season 15 Supernatural Fics / pre-finale [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541809
Comments: 18
Kudos: 83
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Mornings

There were eleven marks you would call a scar, four of them large enough to feel a textured bump when you ran your fingertips, or your mouth, over them. 

When Cas started from top to bottom (the usual path), his fingers brushed over the scar along the left side of Dean’s face. That one used to cause Cas the most grief. For some time, it represented self-doubt and guilt. Cas wasn’t there when the wound happened and he didn’t have enough juice to heal it before he eighty-sixed his grace.

In the end, Jack offered to patch it up, but Dean refused. _No more short cuts_. They were all grounded as complete humans now and would have to learn to live with the dings and chips that came along with it. 

Eventually, when Cas found his fingertips wandering over the mark, gratitude replaced guilt. It was a sign of a fight against odds that they won; a win that unequivocally finished everything so no more battles needed to be fought. The finishing blow; the knockout; the ticker-tape parade in Times Square. 

The journey that started with Cas tracing his finger from brow to cheek where the mark ended was his favorite way to wake Dean. Just the slight graze of his fingertip along sleep-warmed skin acted like a start-up switch, Cas rewarded with a small, inquisitive noise and a scrunched face. Every time. 

Moving down from the face, two small scars rested against Dean’s left collarbone. They weren’t really raised, more like someone decided to mark Dean’s skin with pearly white paint, but Cas never skipped them. Those marks received short kisses, almost a brush of the lips if Cas felt like rushing. 

In the new house, they had many windows. The bedroom sat on the southeast corner of the house, ensuring a sunrise all year. The bed faced south, and when the sun began its journey into the sky, they could track the rays from the floor, up the side of the bed, and onto a body. Dean once called it ‘nature’s mood lighting’. 

Another prominent scar landed itself on Dean’s left forearm, just beyond the elbow. It didn’t have a long arc or a graceful look to it. The mark had a blunt start and a ragged finish, angry in appearance. It had a smooth texture to it, wasn’t too wide, but still evidence of a more violent injury. 

The story behind it didn’t relay any real violence. 

They moved some wood paneling from the wall of the barn one day and stacked it against the wall next to the door. Dean tripped on a tool one of them dropped and lost his balance just enough for his arm to scrape across the wood, a rusted nail making brief contact. Dean bled too much to ignore the wound and he went to a local clinic for a shot and a couple of stitches. 

Cas, as not to make anyone feel left out, would drag his fingers over that scar as well. Sometimes he did it while mouthing Dean’s collarbone, other times while he pressed succinct kisses down his chest, traveling to the next stop.

Usually, by then, Dean would have regained enough consciousness to give up a little smile, eyes still closed. On some mornings, Cas received a soft noise of contentment as an extra reward. 

The last destination on the little trip brought Cas down to Dean’s left side, just above his hipbones, where three little marks arced across the skin. They were like the collarbone scars, not as raised but clearly there, pink instead of white. They were the newer additions. 

The sensitivity of Dean’s skin in the area remained the biggest payoff. Even if Cas just glanced his fingers over the small scars and onto the area around them, he’d get a sharp inhale and a small squirm in response. When Cas applied pressure with his mouth, then traced the lines with his tongue, the sharp inhale and squirming were accompanied by Dean’s hands in Cas’s hair while another noise escaped from deep within. 

Three little marks made by Sam’s overexcited dog during their last visit really did wonders. 

The sun would usually be completely up by that point unless it was winter, and the rays splashed themselves across the bed. In the summer, they kicked the sheets and comforter onto the floor to avoid overheating. 

The journey ended with Cas taking Dean into his mouth, and working him from there, relishing in every strangled moan he could extract. Sometimes, if the morning was just right and Cas hit the spots perfectly, Dean rolled over and angled himself with a silent plea for more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thank you for reading!  
I'm finding that fluff is really needed during this Season 15 journey we're on!  
Anyway, I'm a /sucker/ for early morning nonsense and it's what was needed after two emo coda fics. 
> 
> Excerpt from a poem recommended by [ farie_lights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_lights)
> 
> Photo by Mark Erskine on Unsplash. 
> 
> This is part of my post-season 15 headcanon series, and if you want the complete background on it (why are they in a house??? barn???) you can read it [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387190)


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